To Walk at a Good Pace

To walk at a good pace is a big deal for the miserable elderly.  If a miserable elderly person or luckless old humanoid can't walk at a good pace, that old fart might as well get selected out.  And deservedly so.

Crumby, following his mixed reviews visit to Alaska, has been totally incapable of walking at a good pace.  That's because, on about his second day in the Booblick's largest state by areal extent, Crumby received multiple stress fractures as well as multiple ligament abominations simultaneously in and upon his right foot.  Only timely intervention by the White Goddess (WG), herself, prevented Crumby, in his vulnerable, crippled condition, from being predated upon by whatever, or maybe trampled by a moose.

Yes.  These days, afflicted with a boot cast, Crumby could scarcely flee a predator (two legged or four legged) or unfriendly ungulate in a timely fashion.  And this condition has persisted for like months (since the start of August).  Even so, Crumby limps or staggers along, yet.  Thanks to the Goddess.  The Goddess be praised.

Right off the bat, as Crumby was initially stuck in the Alaskan swamp mud, wearing naught but hip boots, and sinking out of sight toward Hades, he was rescued finally by those he had contracted with.   Precisely, those contractees were solicited  to rescue Crumby from dire or evil situations that those same contracted parties should never have allowed him to wander into in the first place.  But too late.  As Crumby was extracted from the substrate,  this or that bone and tendon snapped from the great stress or primordial forces the mud brought to bear on Crumby's wretched pedambulate orama.

Like if this bear had not eaten several elderly humanoid dumb asses already, Crumby would have been doomed then or there.  Mercy!